O soul, it is not thine,
But lent to thee in trust
That thou may'st make God's glory shine,
Secured from moth and rust.
Thou can'st not take one mite
Except as thou dost give
And waft it in the golden light
Where heaven's glories live.
Go look for those in need —
The hungry and the cold.
Kind words and actions are the seed
Which yield their fruits of gold.
Give to the heathen world
Knowledge of Christ our Lord;
Pray that his banner be unfurled;
Send forth, his priceless word.
He lived for us and died,
And intercedes above.
His blood, a sacrificial tide,
Redeems us by his love.
“Barbarian, bond and free,
The wise and the unwise” —
‘ Tis ours to give and theirs to see
Salvation's blood-bought prize.
We know not‘ neath the sky
Who'll gather of our store,
But if we lay it up on high,
‘ Tis ours forevermore.